Yabblins
by Totally-Yatal
Summary: England tells young America a story one night, and not one that most would tell young children.                                                   I'm bad at summaries, you all know that ; - ;   Might be a prologe to a future story, I guess we'll find out!


**_(What don't I own? Hetalia! Yaaaaaaaaay for no lawsuits! ^-^)_**

**_(So this is an inside thingy with my friend, but I thought "Hey, I might as well put it somewhere!")_**

**Yabblins**

It was another stormy summer night in the young land of America. Branches shook furiously against the wind, and the rain fell down so heavely that it was nearly impossible to see two feet in front of you. When the thunder boomed the whole ground shook, and when the lightning flashed it was almost as though the whole world was set ablaze by it's brillant glow. Just another summer night in the proud, young country's land.

And the tiny nation sat curled up in his bed, backed up closest to the wall as humanly possible. The child held the blankets around him tightly, peering up at an older, bushy eyebrowed man who took the role of his guardian bid his good night. Though a thunderstorm was not an unusual occurance among these lands, it often frightened the child. He would sit as he was for hours, blue eyes wide with fear, and he would always jump a mile high when thunder clapped.

Just as it did now.

With the boom came the young nation's small body leaping into the air. Once the lightning flash faded the young child burried his face into the blankets, as if the block out the angry storm just outside his door. The older nation could surpress a tiny chuckle from this, and afterwords, feeling bad for the child, tousled his hair gently.

"Ah, don't be afraid Alfred," He soothed, petting the child's hair. "You've witnessed thunderstorms before, it's nothing new."

"Doesn't make it any less scary," Alfred mumbled, face still hiding undernieth the blankets. Once more the older man chuckled by his response, causing the child to glance up for a brief moment to glare at him.

The older man sighed slightly and removed his hand from the younger one's head. He coughed slightly, then took a step back. "Well, goodnight..."

Alfred reached quickly reached out for his hand and grabbed onto it tightly, as if telling the older man not to go, "Wait..." He said slowly. "Aruthur? Could you...Tell me a story? Maybe it will get my mind off the storm."

Aruthur blinked in surprise, "Uh, I don't really know many stories, and the ones I do know are not really, well, that happy-sunshine kind that could brighten up any day..."

The young nation shook his head, "I don't care," He informed the older one. "Besides, nothing scares me, I'm a big, strong nation. I'm a hero!" Alfred sat up high and put his fists to his sides, as if to seem brave, but when thunder struck again he cowered back into his blankets.

The bushy-eyebrowed man sighed and rubbed the back of his head. "Alright then..." He mumbled. Truth of the matter was, Aruthur didn't know any stories that were really child appropriate. But as he thought only one story came to mind, and it was the most child appropriate one that he could think of. He sighed slightly and began:

"Once upon a time there was a little nation, around your age, who never did what he was told. From 'clean your room' to 'don't try to take over that country', he never listened. One night, a night nearly the opposite of this one, his mummy had enough. She told him, 'If you don't do what you're told the yabblins will find you!"

Alfred blinked his blue eyes in confusion, "Yabblins?" He echoed. "What are yabblins?"

"A yabblin is a creature with the head of a man, the body of a cat, and the ears of a bear. The head generally has long, golden locks, blue eyes like your's, three legs, and stubble on his chin," Aruthur ran his fingers through his blond hair as he thought, scowling the tiniest bit as he remembered the features of the yabblin. "Anyway, the boy did not believe in yabblins. He thought it was quite childish to believe in something so silly, so the boy continued to be reblious. But when he was sent to his room that night his thoughts...Changed."

"How so?" The young nation wondered aloud, leaning closely towards in other one in suspense.

"That night, while lying in bed, there was a tap on his window. At first he ignored it, and the taps grew louder, and louder. When he turned to the window he saw a pair of eyes staring in at him. The boy grew frightened, and hid under his covers so that the eyes may not see him," Alfred's blue eyes widened, the intensity making him curious beyond belief. Aruthur smirked slightly. "After a while things quieted down, and the boy allowed himself to doze off-"

"Now why would he do that?" Alfred exclaimed, the foolishness of the boy bewildering him.

"Who knows? He must have been tired. But as I was saying, while he slowly drifted off into sleep, his window slid open. Startled by the sudden sound, the boy shot upright, and glanced around. When he looked at his window it was closed. 'Must have been my imagination' he assumed, and slowly slid back to a lying position. But as he lay there, not yet ready for sleep, he heard a noise. The creaking of wood, and the light pitter patter of footsteps, topped off with a cheery man's 'Oh ho ho!'. Normally, the voice of the man would not have scared him, but in the dark and silence it was eerie."

"It's a yabblin, isn't it?" The young man whispered, clutching his blanket so tightly that his knuckles had turned white.

All Aruthur did in response was let a flash of a smile reach his lips. "The boy sat up and called out 'Hello?' and there was not answer. No quaking with fear, he lowered himself further into his bed. Soon, the eyes appeared again, but this time they did not just stay there, they suddenly leaped forward, a body of a yabblin flying right for him."

Alfred gasped, "I was right!"

The blond man nodded, "Yes you were," He murmered quickly. "The yabblin landed right on top of his body, and pinned him down with it's three legs. The boy tried to kick the yabblin off him, but it was a persistant creature. After scratching up the boy quite a bit with it's claws, it purred 'You've been a naughty boy'. Then it..." Aruthur paused and shook his head, as if signaling Alfred it was the end.

But this wasn't good enough for Alfred. "What?" He asked, blue eyes wider than Aruthur had ever seen them, "What did the yabblin do to him?"

The older nation stood up and shook his head, "A-Ah, well, you're a bit young to hear that part, I'll tell your when you're older, okay?"

The young nation slammed his fist on the bed, "No! I want to know what happened! Did the yabblin kill him, scratch out his eyes; what did it do?"

Aruthur sighed slightly, "No, no, none of that...Let me just tell you that the yabblin did...Illegal things. Things that you shall never do to anyone. Illegal, dirty, perverted things, alright? Now goodnight."

This seemed to satisfy the young nation for the moment. It was now that he had realized that the rain had quieted down, as if listening to Aruthur's story as well, and he hadn't heard a peep of thunder or seen a flash of lightning. "One more thing..." Alfred began, looking his guardian inthe face. "Was that story real? Do yabblins really exsist?"

The older nation had begun to walk towards the door, and paused at the doorway when he heard this question. Aruthur slowly turned his head towards the child, then said one last thing: "I was that boy." As if on cue, thunder rang once more as the older man blew out the candle and left the room, closing the door behind him.

And even though the storm had subsided, Alfred did not get a wink of sleep that night.


End file.
